Forced to Choose
by amtrak12
Summary: A Season 4 AU that picks up as Sykes's bomb goes off to explore the question: What if H.G.'s locket became an artifact? Follows canon in regards to Claudia saving Steve, but ignores the astrolabe storyline.
1. Myka

**Author's Note:** If you remember my old fic Unityverse (really hoping you don't), this is the same premise but completely revised and rewritten. This version was posted to Archive of Our Own a couple of weeks ago. I finally got around to uploading it here. There will be sequels eventually, but I want to finish Love Spoilers first.

* * *

Myka held her head bowed and her hands fisted at her side as the fire erupted all around them. She was shaking or swaying because the side of her jacket kept bouncing between her hip and her wrist. She wanted to retreat, to tune everything out, but the constant tapping wouldn't let her. She finally unclenched a hand to grab the jacket end. Something hard sat in the pocket; she could feel it beneath the leather.

It was the locket. Helena's locket.

She'd pushed the locket up when she'd grabbed the jacket, and the chain began to slip out. Myka raised her thumb up to catch it, to pin it back against the jacket. She wasn't going to lose the locket too. Not when -

She wiped all thoughts from her mind. She stood and held her hands tight and tried not to feel the heat through the barrier. Tried not to hear the sounds of burning and destruction.

Why?

Why did it have to be this way?

The heat and light died down. The sharp scent of smoke swept in to dry out her throat, and she knew the barrier had dropped. The danger had passed.

She opened her eyes. Specks of ash drifted into their circle to land at her feet. She could see the edge of the ruins just inches in front of her. She couldn't make herself look up to examine the rest quite yet.

From her right, she heard Pete gasp. "Holy crap." She closed her eyes once and steeled herself to see it.

The ruin was everywhere. Grey and black coated the world, dotted only by tiny orange flames still burning in places. The ground was littered with twisted, warped metal and broken fractures of artifacts that didn't burn. Ash and smoke hung in the air leaving it feeling thick and hostile.

And a woman, with raven locks and a pale jacket, stood exactly where she'd last been.

"Um, Artie? Are we supposed to be seeing ghosts?"

It was a fair question, one some part of Myka was wondering herself, but mostly she was too busy taking in every detail of the woman's face to question why she could see her at all.

"Helena?" It was barely a whisper.

Helena looked bewildered. "What happened?"

"A bomb went off." Oh, Pete. But his bluntness kept Myka grounded. Kept her from slipping through whatever gap this was between fantasy and reality. "Sykes's bomb. It blew you up, remember?"

"Yes, I do remember." Her irritation made Myka smile with affection. She sounded real. She might be real. "But I obviously did not blow up."

"No, you did not." It was Artie that spoke this time. Myka couldn't tell if he was angry or shocked. She almost said something in defense of  
Helena, but no accusation had been made yet. Except being a ghost.

Myka took a hesitant step forward.

"How am I still here?"

Her tone was different now, filled with lost and wonderment. Myka was filled with wonderment too. Helena was still there. The step hadn't shattered the illusion.

Myka took another step. Then, another.

"What did you do?" Not as angry as Artie could be with Helena. Maybe he was simply shocked.

"Nothing! I diverted the barrier. I didn't do anything more."

Myka continued picking her way over to Helena. For being the epicenter of the bomb, there was a lot of rubble to fight through. Broken chunks of concrete blown off the ground, small craters, hidden sinkholes that wanted to drag her foot down below. It didn't help that she was afraid to take her eyes off of Helena, afraid she'd check her footing only to look up and find the woman gone.

But she made it. She made it to Helena, no barrier keeping her contained.

Helena stared up at her, eyes wide with what might have been desperation.

"Myka." She shook her head. "I should be dead." She was so real. Myka could see every breath heave through her chest. "Why am I not dead?"

It was the fear in her voice that toppled Myka. The fear and uncertainty that knocked her from her shock. She reached for Helena and stepped up to wrap the woman in a crushing hug.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I don't know, but you're here." She buried her face into Helena's hair and neck. "You're here."

* * *

It was a long argument back at the inn.

It was an even longer debate over which artifact to blame.

Something Helena had touched.

Something Helena had taken.

An artifact being destroyed in the blast.

The warehouse repaying Helena back for her sacrifice (as suggested by Leena).

Nothing seemed to fit. The Phoenix hadn't been shelved anywhere near the routes Helena had walked, and no other artifact could resurrect someone that quickly and without a body.

It was a mystery. Until Pete asked if two artifacts could have combined during the explosion to create a resurrection.

"No..." Artie trailed off into thought. "But the power of all those artifacts being destroyed could have created a new artifact."

"A new artifact that can resurrect someone."

"But Artie, even if that was the case, none of us used an artifact. There hadn't been any time."

He made them all empty their pockets, remove any jewelry or accessories they were wearing. Pete joked about stripping off their clothes too, and Artie answered seriously, "Yes, if we don't find the artifact here."

One-by-one they checked each item with static bags stored at the inn. One-by-one the items reacted negatively to the neutralizer. Then, Artie picked up the locket.

"That's mine." Helena tried to reach for it, and Artie blocked her.

"You'll get it back." He dropped it in the bag. Sparks flew out.

"Or not," Pete said.

Artie jerked his head up to scan each them. "Who had this with them?"

"I did," Myka admitted. It had been her. She'd touched the locket during the bomb. Somehow Helena was alive because of her.

"That wasn't an artifact," Helena said.

Artie closed the bag. "It is now."

* * *

It was chaos when Mr. Kosan and the remaining Regents arrived. Everyone argued over what should be done with the locket. Finally, the Regents kicked them out of the room, only allowing Artie and Helena to stay.

Claudia paced the floor, one hand still clutching the metronome. Pete sat quietly, but checked his phone every two minutes to see if his mother had made it back from Hong Kong yet. Myka stood against the wall, arms crossed, and chewed on the edge of her thumb.

There was so much at stake with this artifact. So many problems to consider. They still didn't know what the consequence of using the locket was. Did someone else die so Helena could live? Would someone else die?

After a long time, Artie came out into the hallway.

"The Regents are keeping the locket."

Claudia looked furious.

"What will they do with it?" Myka asked.

"Nothing for the present time. The immediate danger has been taken care of: the locket's been neutralized, H.G.'s been contained."

"What?"

Chaos erupted again as they all began talking at once.

"They can't keep the locket. I need it."

"What do you mean H.G.'s contained? What did you do?"

"They're probably just checking that it's safe first."

"H.G. died to save us! Why would they lock her up?"

"They're trying to stop me from bringing back Steve."

"Alright!" Artie shouted over all of them. "Enough." When he had their attention, he continued. "H.G. was resurrected during the birth of an artifact. That might explain why we didn't see any consequences. Using it again could be disastrous since we still don't know for sure what it does." He moved his stare from Claudia to Myka. "H.G., herself, demanded to be locked up. We tried talking her out of it, but she insisted it was necessary. She didn't want to give herself the chance to steal the locket."

"What would she do with the locket?" Pete asked. "Oh, right. Her daughter."

"Christina's picture is in the locket," Myka said. "Maybe that's why it became a resurrection artifact."

"Yeah, Artie. Maybe it's a resurrection artifact meant to undo horrible wrongs. Did you ever think of that?"

Artie glared at Claudia. "No, four Regents and two very experienced agents, including the owner of said locket, and that idea never crossed our minds. Yes! We thought of that! It doesn't change the fact that we don't know what it does or at what cost."

Claudia started to argue again, but Artie cut her off.

"No more! This conversation is over, and we have bigger issues to deal with." He held up a pocket watch. "Like rebuilding the warehouse. So," he walked to the door. "Let's go."

* * *

It took hours for the pocket watch to rebuild the warehouse, though recreate might have been the more accurate term. Artie explained that the watch could steal a sliver of time and hold it inside until the catch was released when it would implant that sliver into the current time line. The memory wasn't large enough to restart the time line of the entire world or a full city. But it could hold a split second of a building. It could restart the warehouse.

Somehow watching the warehouse slowly rematerialize in front of their eyes only felt relieving, not strange.

Finding Mrs. Frederic very alive and irritated inside the office was the strange part.

While Artie tried to work out if Mrs. Frederic had been in the warehouse when he'd stored the moment on the watch, the caretaker confirmed that she had no memory of the past year.

"This watch wasn't supposed to work on people."

"So wait, you don't remember Christmas when I hugged you? I mean not that I hugged you!" Pete said. "Cause that would be weird and super awkward."

Mrs. Frederic couldn't confirm her whereabouts at the time Artie used the watch, and they ultimately chalked it up to the connection between a warehouse and its caretaker.

"When did you copy the warehouse anyway?"

"I didn't copy it. I literally removed a nanosecond of -"

"Yeah, I'm going with copy," Pete said.

Artie heaved a sigh. "Fine. Then, I used the watch to copy the warehouse after the events of Yellowstone. It seemed like a good time to make a back up."

"So all those artifacts we've snagged since then?" Myka asked.

"Are gone from existence now, yes."

"Ah man, I liked the tea pot," Pete said. "Once you got past the creepy nightmares trying to kill you."

"Now, you two," Artie continued, "are going to need to make a list of every artifact we've snagged since then."

"But why do we need to do that if they're gone?"

"We still need a record of them. And Claudia," Artie turned around. "I need you to do a scan," he turned again. The girl wasn't around.  
"Where's Claudia?"

"She left while your attention was on the watch," Mrs. Frederic said.

"And you let her?" Mrs. Frederic crooked her eyebrow at his accusation. "Dammit!"

"It's the middle of the night by now, Artie." Pete shrugged. "Maybe she just went home."

"I doubt we're that lucky." Artie gathered some things from the desk and dropped them in his bag. He pointed at Pete and Myka. "Stay here. Check the warehouse. Make sure the artifacts didn't come back all jumbled up or something."

"Where are you going?" Myka asked as Artie headed for the door.

"To find Claudia."

Somehow Mrs. Frederic was still in the room. Maybe she'd lost her knack for disappearing, or maybe she was still adjusting to recent events. Myka took a chance and walked over to her.

"After the bomb, H.G. requested to be locked up again. I don't know where the Regents are holding her now, but I was wondering... I need to speak with her."

Mrs. Frederic appraised her in that cold, unnerving way she always used. "I'll look into it. In the morning," she emphasized. "For now, I believe you and Agent Lattimer have work to do."

"Yes, ma'am." Myka looked back at Pete who shrugged at her. "And than -" She cut off when she realized Mrs. Frederic had left.

"Well, she can still go poof," Pete said.

* * *

Mrs. Frederic arranged for her to speak with Helena the next afternoon. Myka wasn't greeted with a comforting sight when she walked into the room. Helena was sitting on a bed, handcuffed to the frame.

A Regent closed the door behind her, and Helena seemed to hold her breath until they heard the clicking of the lock.

"The handcuffs seem a bit overkill," Myka quipped. She didn't want to take them seriously. Didn't want to contemplate who had considered them necessary.

"The handcuffs are an illusion," Helena said. "There are still eleven different ways I can escape them right now." She looked Myka in the eye. "But I _need_ them."

The pleading in her voice had Myka shaking her head before she could consciously react. "Why?" She heard her voice crack. "Why are you doing this?"

"There is an artifact that exists in this world that could possibly resurrect a human being, any human being. I can't be let near that." Myka tried to argue, but Helena stopped her. "No. There are a great many lengths I would've gone to in order to obtain such an artifact, many lengths I have gone to. I cannot be tested on this now. Do not put me in that position, Myka. Please, do not give me that choice." Tears reflected in Helena's eyes, and Myka could feel her own eyes burning. "I won't put people at risk again, but every passing second makes it harder to care about the consequences."

Myka swallowed back the heartache and nodded. She got it. She really did. "But there has to be a better way."

"Destroy it."

"What?"

"Destroy the locket," Helena repeated. "It has to be destroyed, and the Regents are hesitating."

Myka sank into the desk chair across from Helena. "It's your locket. It has Christina's picture in it."

"I have another, one that's currently far less threatening to the world." Helena fixed her determined stare on Myka again. "I need this one erased from existence."

Myka just stared back.

"Will you please destroy it for me?"

Myka didn't want that kind of responsibility. Not when it would likely involve stealing from the Regents. Not when they didn't know for sure what the locket did or how it worked.

"I can't trust the Regents to do it. They should have destroyed it already, but they refused."

She didn't have much of a choice, though. "Okay." She was going to regret this. "I'll do it."

Helena breathed out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you."

* * *

Myka was in the aisles of the warehouse, neutralizer gun slung over her shoulder, spraying down artifacts that weren't happy with their temporal transplant, and wondering how she was going to get the locket from the Regents.

"How much trouble are you in if you destroy an artifact?"

"Like three days of Artie grumping at you more than usual. Why?" Pete spun around and faced her. "Ooo, did you break something? Can I be the one that tells Artie?"

Myka glared at his grin even though he probably couldn't see it through the purple goggles. She squirted some neutralizer goo at his shirt.

"Hey hey hey!" Pete jumped back. "Not cool!"

The Farnsworth buzzed in Myka's pocket. "I didn't break anything!" Yet. She pulled out the Farnsworth and flipped it open.

"We've located Claudia," Artie spoke over the screen.

"You found her? Where was she?"

"She's at the inn currently." Myka frowned as he sidestepped her question. "You and Pete should come back here."

"What, why? Is she okay?"

"Get here now." Artie hung up. She closed the lid and looked at Pete.

"Well, that sounds ominous," he said.

* * *

Myka was going to thwack Artie later for being so cryptic and making them expect the worst. Right after she managed to pull coherent thoughts together again.

"Oh man," Pete said with a laugh. "Steve-o, you're back? You're actually back? Holy." Beneath her shock, Myka managed to feel amused at the sight of Pete swooping in to hug their newly resurrected agent. "Seriously, it is so good to see you alive, buddy."

"Hey, Pete?" Steve said, looking awkward with the hug. "You know you're not my type, right?"

"Right." Pete stepped away. "Right." He patted Steve's shoulder. "Still good to see you again."

Myka's hug was accepted with a little more ease, though it was clear Steve still felt uncomfortable with this fuss. Myka understood. Steve wasn't much for hugs, and of course, he had to have felt unsettled from learning that he'd been dead and resurrected. There'd been a lot of unsettling things lately.

Artie (with interjections from Claudia) explained what happened with the attempted break-in to a Regent building, the metronome, and Jane's enabling. Pete whistled and had to cheer on his mom for breaking the rules, but Myka was more struck by Claudia's successful break-in.

"Claudia." She pulled the girl aside that night as the celebration winded down.

"You're not going to lecture me on risking my life with an artifact, are you? Because Artie hasn't done his yet, and he has dibs."

"No, it's not a lecture." Myka led her into the study and checked that everyone was out of earshot. "I was wondering, you broke into a Regent facility, right?"

Claudia crossed her arms. "There may have been some questionable deceit and hacking, yes."

"Would you be able to pin down where they're holding the locket?"

Claudia's eyes grew wide. "Locket? No, I," she shook her head. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Look, I'm not trying to get you into trouble or anything. It's something I need to know." Myka took a deep breath and then admitted, "I promised H.G. I'd destroy the locket."

Claudia stared. "H.G. wants it destroyed?"

"Yeah." Myka didn't feel like elaborating.

Claudia was silent for a moment. Then she unfolded her arms and reached into her pocket. "You should tell her it's not necessary." She held out her hand and dropped the locket into Myka's. "It doesn't work."

Myka stared down at the locket. "Claude, when did you -?"

"Yesterday. It had less security than Steve's - than Steve, so I tried it first." She shrugged. "But it didn't work. I don't know if there's a trick to it or if it only had the mojo for one resurrection, but it definitely didn't resurrect Steve. Let H.G. know."

Myka watched Claudia walk out and rejoin the group in the living room. She pulled out a spare static bag from her pocket and held it behind her back so the others wouldn't see. She dropped the locket in and heard the sparks sizzle.

The locket may not have resurrected Steve, but it was definitely still an artifact. Helena would still want it to disappear.  
-

* * *

They're sent out to track down a box of artifacts Sykes had stored in an empty house. All of them, the entire team, including Leena. Myka hadn't had time to contemplate the locket further.

But after she watched Jesse Ashton kill himself in an attempt to save his brother, the locket was almost all she could think about. The bag containing it seemed to burn in her pocket. She needed to know what the artifact did before she tossed all of Helena's hopes away. She had to know.

"Hey, Claudia." They were loading and checking that the artifacts were safely contained in the vehicles before they drove home.

"What's up?" The girl checked the lid of a neutralizer canister, and then rubbed her neck. She looked at her fingers and frowned. "Man, it still feels like something bit me. Can you see?"

Myka glanced where she was pointing and shook her head. "There's nothing there. Look, when you tried with the locket, what did you do exactly?"

Claudia looked around, probably checking for Artie, before answering. "Basically held it in my hand and thought about Steve. Why, what did you do to bring back H.G.?"

"I have no idea," Myka said. "I was trying not to think at all. I guess I was wishing the bomb hadn't happened."

"Well, that can't be it. I was wishing for Steve pretty hard. I thought maybe I needed to go back to the Featherhead hangar, but I didn't want to do that if I didn't have to." Claudia shut the trunk of the car. "And the metronome said I didn't have to." She looked at Myka. "It's probably better that the locket doesn't work, right?"

"Yeah," Myka agreed. "No temptation then."

"Exactly." Claudia smiled. "And it's also probably better that I learned that it didn't work first-hand, and not someone else, like say, H.G. Cause you know that would've been bad."

"Mmhmm," Myka nodded. "And it's probably best that you're able to justify your theiving so well."

Claudia scrunched up her nose. "That obvious?"

"Only a little." Myka chuckled. "I'll see you back at the warehouse, Claude."

"See ya."

* * *

Myka still couldn't bring herself to break the locket. In her room that night, she pulled out the static bag and turned it over in her hands, again and again.

The locket hadn't worked when Claudia had used it. It hadn't brought Steve back. Maybe its power wasn't resurrection.

But Helena was alive when she shouldn't be, and the locket was suddenly an artifact. That wasn't a coincidence.

What had she done with the locket when the bomb went off? She'd barely touched it. Had she been thinking about Helena?

She believed she had. It'd been hard not to when Helena was the reason any of them had lived through that bomb.

So why hadn't the locket worked when Claudia used it? What was different between resurrecting Helena and trying to resurrect Steve?

Helena hadn't been resurrected on purpose.

Helena had came back immediately after she'd died.

Helena had been resurrected at the exact spot she'd died.

Myka considered the locket again. Every artifact was a reflection of its owner, of the circumstances surrounding its creation. An artifact hadn't randomly been created out of the blast. It had been _this_ locket. It had resurrected Helena.

Helena had tried so hard to save her daughter. She'd killed for it. Driven herself mad over it.

Did she create the solution she'd searched for? Or was it just a dangerous fantasy?

Nothing had happened when Helena came back.

Claudia thought it might have worked if she'd been at the hangar.

Myka stood up and pulled out her travel bag.

She needed to try it. Just once. Just to know for sure that it wouldn't work.

Because Helena had locked herself up from the what-if's, and destroying the locket wouldn't erase them. Myka needed the answers before Helena would be free.

* * *

She walked slowly through the abandoned house in the outer fringes of Paris. She knew the Regents or at least the warehouse team would be following her. She hadn't exactly covered her tracks. The only reason no one had stopped her thus far, must have been her head start.

She climbed the stairs to the second floor. That was as far as she knew she needed to go. She didn't know which bedroom it had happened in or if it had been in a bedroom at all. Her stomach crawled with nerves as she centered herself in the hallway and pulled out the static bag.

At least the house had been vacated six months ago and had never been resold. She didn't have to concoct a story for why she needed to see the upstairs.

She opened the bag and gently removed the locket. Nothing happened the second she touched it, so it clearly required some sort of thought or wish to activate it.

Or Claudia had been right, and it couldn't resurrect anymore.

She turned the locket over in her hand and glanced around at the rooms. This was risky, but she needed to see what could happen. It wouldn't be enough to say it didn't work. Myka had to prove it or Helena would drive herself mad again considering the different conditions the locket might require. And she couldn't destroy it outright or Helena would always hate herself for not taking the chance to have her daughter back.

Myka opened the locket.

"Okay, Christina," she said to the picture. "Let's see what happens."

She held the locket in her hand and closed her eyes. She tried to think about Christina, to hold the image of her in her mind, but it was difficult. She had never known Christina. She knew nothing about the girl.

This wasn't going to work. She was too disconnected from the subject. She thought of Helena, then, an image from a long shelved memory never revisited. They were at Warehouse 2, just after the Medusa vision. Helena was crying, heartbroken, because she'd just lost her daughter again. Because the Medusa trap had fooled her into believing her daughter was alive again.

Helena had fought here, in someone else's body, but it had still been her. She'd tried over and over again to save her daughter and never succeeded. She'd had to hear her daughter's cries and last breath. Myka could almost hear them now and tried to derail those thoughts, to push those sounds from her mind.

Her eyes blinked open. Those were actual cries she was hearing.

She looked around the hall again. The crying grew more real and solid. Someone was here. Myka followed the sound into a bedroom to her left and found a small figure huddled on the floor against the far wall. The tiny girl looked up when Myka entered in the room. In between the tears, she cried out in French, begging Myka not to hurt her.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Myka crept closer to the girl, murmuring in alternating English and French. "I'm not going to hurt you. Everything's okay." The girl continued to cry, but she didn't lash out or shout as Myka crouched down in front of her. "Are you hurt anywhere?" She reached out to check the girl and realized she was still holding the locket. She cringed. "Hang on." She stood up and dropped the locket in the static bag, ducking from the sparks. Luckily, the girl didn't seem to pay any attention to this. Myka put the bag in her jacket pocket and dropped down in front of the girl again.

"What's your name?" The girl just cried, head down on her knees. "Is it Christina? Is your name Christina Wells?" Then, the girl looked up, her tears halting for a moment, though her chin still quivered. Her hair was black, and she had brown eyes. "Christina, I'm friends with your mother, Helena Wells."

The girl wiped at her eyes. "You know my mother?"

"Yeah," Myka nodded. "Yes, I know your mother. I'm going to make sure you get back to her. My name is Myka Bering and see," she pulled her badge off her belt clip. "I'm a sort of policeman. I'm going to get you safely back to your mother."

Christina looked unconvinced. "But you're a woman."

Myka almost laughed. "Yes, I am, but does being a woman stop your mother from having amazing adventures?" The girl didn't respond. "No, it doesn't. So I can be a policeman."

New tears sprang up in Christina's eyes. "I want my Mummy."

"I know." Myka reached out and smoothed down some of the girl's messy hair. Her vision blurred, and she wondered if she was tearing up too. "I'm going to take you to her. It's going to be alright."

"But she's in London."

"No, she isn't." She was farther away than London, but Myka hoped Christina would interpret that as she was closer. Someone was closer anyway, or Myka hoped someone was. Her breathing rate was speeding up. She was beginning to feel the panic of trying to fly a girl from the 1890s with no passport or concept of planes back to the States. "Here, let's stand up." Myka helped the girl to her feet and experienced a wave of dizziness when she stood. She realized Christina was wearing an old fashioned nightgown. That was going to be a problem. "We should..." but she trailed off, not knowing how to fix that in this empty house.

Christina rubbed at her eye. "My head aches."

Probably from the crying. Myka's head hurt too - no, it didn't. It just felt light and empty. The dizziness wasn't going away. "It's going to be alright, Christina." But standing was becoming difficult. She felt weak all over, like she hadn't eaten. She had skipped a couple of meals today, but she'd never felt like this before. This was a different kind of drained. "Um, I just need to sit down for a second." She slid down against the wall. Christina looked concerned. _Keep it together. Keep it together._ She pulled out her Farnsworth. "Christina, I'm going to call my colleagues to come help us. Everything's alright."

"What is that box?" Myka ignored her in favor of turning on the Farnsworth and calling. She felt relieved when she saw Pete's face come on the screen.

"Please, tell me you've already tracked me to Paris."

"Yeah, we just got off the plane. Myka, where are you? What's going on?"

"I'm uh -" she took a sharp breath. Her body couldn't seem to accept the oxygen, and her arms shook as they held the Farnsworth steady against her knees. "I'm in a house. Um, Pete, I think something's wrong."

"What? Tell me what happened."

Myka shook her head and instantly regretted it. The room was really spinning now, and she couldn't focus on the Farnsworth screen anymore.

"Myka, tell me what happened."

"I neutralized it, but I don't think it worked." That had to be what this was, right? A side-effect of the artifact?

"Neutralized what?"

"The locket." Myka blinked and tried to see clearly. "I saved Christina."

"What?!" She thought she also heard another voice exclaiming off-screen, but it was too fuzzy to make out. She closed her eyes and concentrated on staying upright.

"Mykes!" Myka jolted. "Where are you now?"

"At the house. The one.. where it happened. Pete, please hurry." She didn't think she'd stay awake much longer, and there was a terrified eight-year old girl here that she couldn't pass out on. And passing out was becoming a more and more likely scenario. Black spots crept at the edge of her vision. "Pete!"

"We're hurrying, Myka. But it'd be faster if you gave us an address."

She couldn't think. It was taking all of her willpower just to remain conscious. It seemed like Christina was talking, but Myka couldn't hear the words. _It's okay, Christina. It's okay._ She didn't know if she was saying the words out loud or in her head. The Farnsworth faded to white noise that could've been anything.

And then it was black.  
-


	2. Helena

**Sorry for the tense shift. For some reason, this chapter insisted on being in present tense. Think of it as an experiment.**

* * *

**_Later, with Helena_**

* * *

Helena slides out of the taxi behind Mr. Kosan. She doesn't understand why they've flown her into Paris. The Regents didn't provide a word of explanation when they requested she leave her imprisonment and follow them. For a moment, she thought Myka had succeeded in destroying the artifact, and the Regents would question if she'd been involved. She was quite prepared to take full responsibility and blame for Myka's actions, but the Regents never even hinted at the artifact being missing. Instead, their foreboding silence reminded her of her previous arrest, and she considered they might be moving her to another security facility. It was why she'd agreed to the journey and hadn't argued for restraints.

The hospital sprawling before them doesn't exactly suggest 'prison', however. Perhaps this is some sort of psychological examination.

She follows Kosan through the double set of automatic doors, and almost wishes Mrs. Frederic was with them. The woman is intimidating and gives the distinct impression she can read one's thoughts which was annoying when Helena wanted to deceive the Regents, but would be greatly welcomed now if it eliminates the need to speak with a psychologist.

The bustle and sounds of the hospital flow around them as they walk. French is murmured and called out through the halls, and the language grates on her as it always seems to when she visits France. It never irritates her outside the country, only here. But perhaps it isn't her distaste for the language as it is her distaste for the city itself. She really isn't a 'fan' of Paris.

They step into an elevator now. She feels the unpleasant jolt in her stomach as the elevator moves and her internal organs struggle to match the momentum.

They arrive on the fifth floor, and Mr. Kosan leads the way to a far corridor. Helena wishes she'd asked questions now, insisted on answers of where they were headed, because her nerve falters when faced with so much unknown.

Well, better late than never.

"Why are we here?" She stops in the hall, a silent refusal to move any further until some things are explained. Mr. Kosan turns around.

"There's been an incident. Agent Bering has been affected by an artifact, and we need your input on the case."

"You fly me out to Paris for a case? Why not leave me where I was and simply ask for my input?" Her stomach knots with dread. Even as she argues so nonchalant, she knows this isn't an ordinary case. Something awful is involved. Something awful that has sent Myka to the hospital.

"It'll be easier to explain once we've found Agent Bering's room."

"How bad is it?" She hopes her voice doesn't sound weak or afraid. She isn't being weak; she simply needs some warning of what lies ahead. Because she is so very afraid.

"Agent Bering is still alive."

Helena believes she hears an unspoken 'for now' at the end of that answer. She takes a breath to steel herself and resumes following Mr. Kosan.

She isn't prepared for the myriad of machines arranged by the head of Myka's bed. They don't appear to be simple monitoring devices. Helena is struck with the sickening notion that one or more of the machines fall under the category of life support. That Myka should already be dead if not for this artificial help.

She stays far away from the door, as far as she can be without passing through walls. She sees Pete sitting by the bed, looking grim and drawn. She thinks that's Artie pacing just beyond the edge of the doorframe. This hall is mostly silent save for the faint murmuring and whimpering of a child somewhere. The crying seems a fitting supplement to the beeps coming from Myka's room, the beeps that sound magnified by the time they reach Helena's ears.

No, she isn't prepared for this at all.

"You know the artifact."

It doesn't sound like a question. Helena's thoughts are pulled to the locket, and she wonders if this is a lingering side effect of her resurrection. If it's her fault, Myka has fallen ill during a case.

Pete spies her before she can respond. He springs up from his chair and bolts over, not like he wants to lash out with anger and blame, but like she holds all the answers he's been seeking. It scares her more than the blame would.

Pete bounds into the hall. "H.G., thank god! We need your help figuring this out. Neutralizing the locket didn't change anything. We need to know how works."

The locket. This is her fault. "I don't know how it works," she shakes her head. "I don't know anything about it as an artifact."

"But it's _your_ artifact. You created it."

"I didn't! Not on purpose, at least. I have no idea how it works or how to counter its consequences." There likely isn't a way to counter it. It's an artifact that toys with life and death. Those are always the most ruthless artifacts.

They are left with only one choice. One possible solution to save Myka. "Destroy it." She'd wanted it from the beginning. She can only assume they've brought the locket here as well, or have someone standing by it, awaiting orders. "Destroy the locket." The answer is so obvious that she wonders why no one's done it already.

Artie has joined them in the hall, and she looks at him now. He should know better than any of them that it was the only way Myka might survive this. "Why haven't you destroyed it yet, break the connection?" She knows the answer before she finishes the question. Can read it in the expression of Artie's face, can feel it materialize out of her awareness of the give-and-take methods of such artifacts. "Because it would kill me?"

It's a foolish reason. She is the one who should be dead - who had died! Why are they hesitating as Myka lay hospitalized?

Artie shakes his head, looking grave. Mr. Kosan is the one who answers, though.

"Because it might kill your daughter."

Helena blinks. Breathes in, out. She misheard him. She must have.

"My daughter is already dead." Has been for decades upon decades, for over a century's worth of years. She cannot die when she's already buried.

But Pete's shaking his head. "No, she isn't, H.G. She's very much alive again."

Helena's never heard him speak so gently. It must be the utter strangeness of it that makes her register that observation. Her eyes slide over to the wall, like she can see past it to Myka in the bed. The sounds, the childish cries and voice she's been ignoring, have become clearer, louder. She's achingly aware of them, but can't determine if she recognizes them, if they match a memory, because the sounds in her head faded long ago with bronze.

"She used the locket." It's a whisper, a statement that needed to be breathed out loud in order to sound anything like real. Her hand comes up to her neck like the locket is still around it, but of course there's no chain hanging there anymore. "She wasn't supposed to use it."

"You asked Miss Bering to take the locket?"

She isn't listening closely enough to identify who's spoken - has barely understood the words. She dismisses the accusation out of hand. It is a question that doesn't matter, and she has one that does.

"Why?"

"What?" She thinks that was Pete. She's listening now.

"Why would you tell me about this?" Do they not see how cruel that was? How torturous? That was not something she should have known. It should never have happened, even been possibility. She ignores Kosan to glare at Artie. At Pete. Somehow she feels the most betrayed by them when there's never been any sort of bond there to betray. "You shouldn't have told me."

"We had to," Pete says, weakly.

Artie starts, "It wasn't in our rights to -" but Helena interrupts him.

"Your rights?" she shouts. "No, it wasn't in your rights! You had no grounds to take the locket and use it on my daughter! And now -" she cuts herself off with a breath and gazes back at the wall. Dimly, she realizes she hasn't cried yet. Not a single tear has formed, but she's shaking rather badly. Her hand twists with her shirt collar in lieu of the locket. The artifact.

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"About five hours," Artie answers. "Breaking the locket might not hurt your daughter. But it also might not wake Myka up. It could hurt any of you, none of you, all of you - we don't know how the connection works." But Helena's already losing the words, letting them drift away from her without touching.

Five hours. The Regents had her in flight before Myka had even used the artifact. They'd known what would happen. Or what could happen. They'd realized she would be needed here to make a decision.

Five hours and already Myka was wired to machines. Trying to cheat death yet again.

They are already too late.

"Where's the locket?"

Artie has it. Still in the silvered neutralizer bag, though he removes it with his gloved hand. The precautions seem too much when they aren't doing anything to protect Myka.

"Give it to me." She holds out her hand. No one moves.

"That's not the only option. There's got to be another way."

"Give it to me!" Pete startles, and she thinks she sees Kosan frown in the corner of her eye, but she pays them no mind. Her attention is on Artie as he reaches out the hand with the locket. He's taking too long; she can still hear the faint sobbing leaking through the walls. How terrible of them to keep her so close, to tempt Helena like this.

There was no temptation. Her daughter wasn't there. She was never brought back because such a feat is impossible. It's impossible, and now Myka's paying the price for trying.

She can't stand it another second. She lunges forward and rips the locket from Artie's hand. There's shouts and some movement out of shock or to stop her. They're clearly not expecting her to open the locket and snap it back on its hinges.

A ripple of energy, just faintly visible to the human eye, pulses out when the locket breaks. There's a gasp for air and speeding beeps of a machine. Pete dashes into Myka's room as his partner wakes up; Artie follows a second behind.

Helena stays in the hallway, artifact pieces in her hands, feeling Kosan's eyes upon her. She can hear Pete trying to explain, calls for a doctor as Myka fights with the machinery. Through it she hears Myka's voice, asking something, but it's not the words she catches, just the sound. She closes her eyes to focus on it better. Myka is alive and well. That's all she wants to think about. She doesn't want to acknowledge the sobs that have ceased in another room.

A shout from a little voice and footsteps echo through the hall. Helena chokes on the air and squeezes her eyes shut harder. Hasn't she paid enough for her sins? Must she still hear these echoes?

The shout comes again, stronger, not fading. She opens her eyes to see an impossible sight: a little girl with black waves fanning out behind her as she runs as fast as tiny legs can carry her. Her little girl who she hasn't seen in several lifetimes.

"Mummy!" Tears glisten on her cheeks, and that's all Helena can register before her daughter has crashed into her, arms wrapping tight around her waist like she'll never let go.

"Christina," she gasps, and it's really more a breath, an exhale of disbelief, than anything voiced. She couldn't truly speak right now, might never speak again.

She slides her arms around her daughter, in utter awe of her presence. Her physical and solid presence. She can feel her daughter's warmth, her tangled hair, the tears already soaking through into her shirt. She can smell her, all soft and innocent and tinged with salt. It is everything that horrid Medusa vision had tried to be, and failed. Helena marvels over the depths of her desperation that she would've ever accepted anything so less than the reality of having her daughter truly there.

"Christina," she says, discovering her voice once more. "Christina. Oh, my baby." She pulls loose only long enough to fall to her knees so she can really look at her. Really see her baby girl again.

Her brown eyes, so much warmer than Helena's own, blink to let slip another tear. "I couldn't see you, Mummy. They wouldn't let me out."

"I know. I know, that was my fault. It was all my fault. I -" her breath halts. _I should've came to you at once. I should've fought for you. I should've killed those men in my path._ "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Christina." She pulls her daughter into a tight hug and rocks with her, hands smoothing down her back, touching her hair. "I'm so sorry, but I'm here now. Mummy's here now, and it's all going to be alright. Everything will be alright."

She sees but doesn't register the legs walking to the hospital room doorway. Doesn't give thought to anyone that's standing witness. Her daughter is alive - so wondrously alive! - and that's all that matters now. It's the only important thing in the world.

She closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of her daughter and pulling her closer, as her own tears finally fall.

-**Epilogue**-

"This is a very fancy hospital." Christina flips a page in the activities book Jane Lattimer had brought her. "Did you know Paris had such fancy hospitals?"

Helena smiles and runs her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Many things are different now. The world has changed since you'd traveled here."

"Like the ambulances?" Christina creases a page to make her book stay open. "The ambulance I was in moved much faster than the ones in London. Mr. Pete said it used a motor. Mummy, what's a motor?"

"It's a type of machine that generates power."

"Like the electric generator?"

"Electric generators do use motors, so yes."

Christina pulls over the box of crayons and seems to lose interest in motors. "Did you hear Ms. Jane say these crayons were made of wax?" She continues without waiting for a response. "Have you ever seen so many colors of wax before?"

"I have seen many more colors of crayons before," Helena says, remembering one of those large general stores that she'd spent hours exploring during her first weeks unbronzed. "So many varieties of crayons to choose from in the stores. We'll have to buy you them. One of every color for you to draw with."

Christina breaks into the most heartbreakingly beautiful smile. "Will you really buy me all the colors of crayons?"

"Yes, I will," Helena assures with an answering smile. Christina looks back to her coloring page and then to her box.

"What color shall I make this flower?"

"I'm not sure." Helena scoots in to select from her box. "How about a nice purple?"

"But what purple is that?" The box is big enough to contain several varieties of purple, and Helena remembers how particular her daughter can be.

"Here let's do this." Helena flips to the front of the book and takes hold of the first page that's only filled with titles and publishing information (and what use is that in a children's activities book?). She tears it loose from the binding, and before Christina can voice her dismay, she makes a mark on the paper with the purple crayon she's holding. She points to the mark. "There, that's what purple it is."

"We can test them." Christina plucks the crayon from her hand.

"Yes, we can test them all and see what colors they make before we use them on the picture."

"Like with my paints!"

"Exactly like your paints." Christina seems happy enough with this solution and begins pulling all the purple crayons she can find out of the box.

Helena watches her, but from the corner of her eye, she sees a figure come to the door and she tenses. She knows who it is, doesn't have to look over to see, in fact, refuses to look over and acknowledge that she even knows the woman is there.

_Leave, leave. You must walk away._

A seemingly long moment passes, a very long moment that doesn't want to end.

But it does. And Myka leaves.

Helena lets out the breath she'd been holding. She can't see Myka yet, can't bear reconciling this safe, warm world surrounding her and her daughter with the much colder and tumultuous world outside that door. She can't examine the consequences, the ones that exist, the ones still to come. There's too much to happen, too much still to address.

So Helena pushes it away. Refocuses on her daughter discovering the joys of crayons and pretends this is the only world. Just for a little longer.  
-


End file.
